Chapter 1 - On the precipice

Matthew woke up with a chilling feeling in his gut as he stared at the stone above him. His heart began to race—he couldn't remember how he had gotten here. He last remembered being on Ecclesall Road, going home, wondering whether to stop at Sherry's Bookstore to find something to read.

Now, he was in a well-defined cavern of white stone, like an ancient temple with blue torches burning above them. A strange silence permeated the air, and the vast space had a still, eerie chill that was cold and uncomfortable. In the center of the room stood a stone fountain.

It was cut from a black stone and had no smooth surfaces. Instead, the human-like statue had rough, sharp edges—an unpolished creature, dark and chaotic, yet Matthew could still see its form. It was a woman with six spider-like arms, thin and flexible with many joints, and a crown of jagged spikes. Her face was hard to distinguish, but even so, she looked down at him with a gaze of disdain.

After a few moments, Matthew finally realized they weren't alone. He turned and saw a dark-skinned young man beside him, admiring the statue and its strange form. He seemed pleased by it. Matthew opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, building up the courage to say something.

A voice beside them asked, "Sorry, do you guys know how we got here?"

Behind him stood a blonde girl with piercing green eyes. She wore a white blouse and a black slim-fitted skirt beneath a long, light pink robe. Multiple shiny bracelets adorned her wrists, and she carried a fancy handbag on her shoulder.

She's well off and seems easy to talk to. She's confident too—her posture, the direct eye contact—but she's also trying not to startle us, forcing a smile. She's attractive and well-groomed. Her fingernails? Simple, clean, well-filed—no dirt. She probably likes to keep her hands neat.

He then realized he was just staring. The other guy hadn't answered either. Matthew glanced at the dark-skinned man, but he was still fixated on the fountain. Turning back to the girl, he smiled apologetically.

"Oh, um… sorry about that. I don't know how we ended up here. Your accent isn't from Sheffield—where are you from?"

She sounded American, but maybe she just went to school here. Best to ask in an offhand way.

The girl frowned. "Uh huh. Where in Wisconsin is Sheffield?"

Now it was Matthew's turn to look lost. The boy beside him finally spoke.

"My name is Joshua."

Matthew suddenly felt self-conscious, as though Joshua had peered into his mind and seen that he had labeled him dark boy in his head. He stalled his overactive thoughts.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Matthew."

"I'm Jessica, but you can call me Jesse."

The conversation had somehow transitioned into introductions, but before Matthew could question it, a loud voice shattered the cavern's eerie stillness.

"Who are you people?! How did I get here?! Where's my dad?! My younger brother was in my hand—Harry?! Where are you?!"

"Where's my phone, what the hell." 

"Wait, are we still in Montreal?"

More voices followed, shouting in confusion. The air filled with a chaotic symphony of fear and desperation. Some people sobbed, others murmured frantically, trying to make sense of what was happening. Faces contorted with panic, red eyes overflowed with tears, and hands pressed against ears in a futile attempt to block out the growing hysteria.

Joshua looked at Matthew and Jesse, perplexed. Not by the situation, but by the way people were reacting. Yet, he said nothing.

Everyone's freaking out. Even I can't stop myself from being afraid, but Joshua is calm. He looks both physically and mentally strong—trusts himself. But he's distant. He doesn't voice his confusion, just shows it. Can he even speak proper English, or is he just a man of few words?

I can't blame them, though. We have no answers. Almost 200 people, from what I can estimate… it's a ridiculous number to move without anyone noticing.

Matthew began scanning the crowd, looking for anyone who wasn't completely overcome by fear. But even the ones who weren't screaming showed signs of uncertainty. They weren't kidnappers—just quiet panickers.

Jessica was starting to break down. Distrust passed over her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself, whimpering.

"What is happening? Why are we here?"

Matthew had no answer. There were no obvious kidnappers. No clear connection between the people gathered here—nationality, race, language. None of it made sense. A deep, unsettling feeling churned in his gut.

Someone, anyone, needs to take control of the situation. If not, things could get ugly soon. I need to find someone who can reassure everyone.

He moved through the crowd, searching for a face that wasn't twisted in despair. Then, he found someone. A stocky boy with brown hair and startling blue eyes, supporting a girl as she wept.

Matthew rushed over. "Over there—we can sit her at the fountain."

The stocky boy nodded, and together they helped her toward the center. Surprisingly, Jesse had followed, and upon seeing the girl's state, she began clearing a path through the chaotic crowd. They eased her down near the fountain.

Joshua glanced at them—interested, but silent.

Matthew turned to the stocky boy. "What's your name?"

The guy was tall—at least six-foot-five—and built like a rugby player. His face was youthful but strong. He answered in a clear voice, "Thanks a lot, mate. My name's Parker."

Voice isn't too deep, but solid. He could probably be loud without straining his throat. Well-kept, deliberate body language.

Matthew decided to be indirect. "Everyone's going crazy—understandably. If something doesn't happen soon, people will start fighting. Then that'll be a real problem to stop."

Jesse looked disturbed by the thought. The girl they had helped unexpectedly calmed down. Joshua seemed amused. But Parker? He looked resolute.

He turned to the jagged, sharp-edged statue, then pulled a pair of gloves from his heavy-looking backpack. Without a word, he put them on, set his bag down, and—before anyone could question it—began climbing the fountain.

A few people noticed and stared in confusion.

Balancing himself between the fifth and second hand of the statue, Parker straightened his chest, took a deep breath, and let out a deafening:

"HEY!"

It was far louder than Matthew had anticipated. Almost everyone stopped and turned toward the massive guy now standing on the fountain. A few stragglers kept whispering, but their eyes were fixed on him.

Parker wasted no time. "We all don't know what's happening! But if we keep this up, someone is going to get hurt!"

With the threat of violence in the air and a shared sense of confusion, this should settle things down. Hopefully.

Matthew nodded, very impressed, before saying, "This is a good place to speak from."

Parker heard this and glanced briefly at him before shouting, "If you want to speak, I'll give you my gloves, and you can climb up and say what you need to! In the meantime, let's all calm down and take a seat, talk among yourselves, let's know where we are all from and if anyone we know is here. But panic isn't going to solve anything."

He had now lowered his voice as almost everyone was quiet and listening. He looked out to the crowd with a steady gaze.

"Thank you all so much for staying calm. I believe that we are all civilized enough to work together and figure out what's going on."

Matthew nodded alongside many others who were now far calmer. An appeal to their rationality too, he murmured.

Parker began to climb down, and everyone sat. They subconsciously chose groups of six to ten and began to converse. Matthew also sat, along with the others, forming a group of thirteen. Jesse placed her hand on the shoulder of the girl they had carried here, asking if she was alright. Joshua watched him candidly, while Matthew made an effort to avoid his gaze.

When Parker was seated, Matthew stretched his hand out to shake his. Parker took off his gloves, shaking out the glassy black stone dust before accepting the handshake.

As they shook hands, Matthew said casually, "Thanks a lot, man. I'm Matthew, by the way."

"I'm Parker… I already told you my name, but umm… yeah, I haven't introduced myself to y'all. I'm Parker, 22, from Queensland . I studied mechanical engineering, and I'm currently jobless. Shocking, I know."

That earned a few lighthearted laughs before Parker turned to the girl beside him.

She was slightly shocked at the non-verbal prompt to introduce herself but quickly caught on.

"I'm Adelina from Algarve. I'm 19 and… uh, I'm not in college yet."

"You can call me Jesse. I'm from Wisconsin, and I'm in my first year of residency," Jesse continued, assuming they were going clockwise.

Everyone followed suit, introducing themselves. The group's tension gradually eased as they followed Parker's lead, chatting in a more casual atmosphere. Then, it reached Joshua, who had laid back onto the ground.

Matthew unconsciously added "I don't think he speaks the lan… Yeah, I don't think he speaks much."

But then, realizing it was his turn, he quickly added, "Umm… yeah, I'm Matthew, from Sheffield in the UK. I'm 21 years old, and I'm a statistician with Green Press."

A pattern was starting to emerge.

They're all from English-speaking countries or at least speak very good English. All below the age of 25. All from rather normal or innocuous backgrounds. A sample size for youths without much variance in background. But why were we chosen? And what for? The how isn't even understandable… that guy Kirk was underwater in a decompression tank, operating an ROV to repair underwater pipes.

One of the guys—Kirk—blurted out, "Teleportation. Or some dream."

A girl looked at him skeptically before saying, "Teleportation is impossible, but can anyone name something I don't know?"

"Bees and wasps inject venom when they sting. Mosquitoes simply bite to feed on your blood. The bumps and itchiness that follow come from an anticoagulant that the mosquito injects to prevent your blood from clotting, which triggers a mild allergic reaction that includes the typical round, red bumps," someone casually blurted out.

Everyone turned but nodded, partially agreeing that the information was probably true.

Then they began a series of questions to determine whether this was real or some kind of trick. They checked their bodies for injection marks or bruises.

Jesse assured everyone there were no signs of being put to sleep using gas or anesthetics. In fact, it wasn't like they had fallen asleep. It was more like they had just opened their eyes and appeared here.

"So… teleportation?" the boy repeated, and this time, no one challenged him. An almost fearful silence replaced the boy's sarcasm.

A fear of what had moved them here—and why.

A boy, Matiu from New Zealand, frowned even deeper. "What the fuck is that statue, too?"

One of the girls was equally perplexed. "Its form, patina, even the motifs… they're unlike anything I've seen before. Almost alien in its structure."

There's something not normal about this situation… which means I can't just rely on traditional thinking. Sitting here, talking, and establishing a group is important—but guiding them to action is even more imperative.

Mum, Heather, and… well, not much, but enough is waiting for me at home. My D&D group. The Terry Pratchett book on my bed.

He sighed, forcing himself to focus. We're off the edge now. We can organize. We can figure something out.

A guy with blond, shiny hair approached them. He was tall and confident, walking through the mass of seated people who watched him expectantly, hoping that whatever he climbed the statue on the fountain to say would point the way.